A Game, A Bet and A Dinner Party
by The Bird Of Fire
Summary: SEQUEL UP! After an eventful stay in Las Vegas, Hermione attends a dinner party only to come face-to-face with two men she had never wanted to see again. As the evening progresses, and the courses keep coming, she soon realises that what happens in Vegas, doesn't always stay in Vegas... HG/DM/BZ
1. Part I

After over five years since I wrote my first story, I have finally written my second. Considerably more mature (and better, in my opinion) and somewhat shorter than my last work, the following is the tale of a foolish boy, a well-meaning girl and a pair of Slytherins who know to seize their opportunities where they can find them.

Also featuring are a couple of lovebirds, dear friends and a dinner party that entertains almost everyone and brings out several secrets.

If you would like to leave a review, I would greatly appreciate it. Feedback and helpful critique is always appreciated.

Without further ado, here is...

* * *

**A ****Game, A Bet and A Dinner Party.**

* * *

**Starters**

**19:22 pm.**

Hermione had never wanted to kill anyone more cruelly and viciously than right at that very moment. Forget about the fourteen potential witnesses or the fact that she would surely be handed a life sentence in Azkaban as a reward; Harry Potter, saviour of the wizarding world and her best friend of almost fifteen years, had to go.

At the head of the dining table, covered in twinkling pillar-candles and china plates, Harry laughed with Fred Weasley over the latest mishap over at _Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes_, blissfully unaware of his best friend's homicidal intentions. Beside him, Pansy Parkinson rose from her seat and left the room, still mid-conversation with the flame-haired Ginny Weasley. The room was alive with laughter and merriment, food and good conversation, and yet Hermione couldn't enjoy it. All because of the two men seated directly across from her.

When Harry Potter had first started dating former Slytherin Princess and former enemy (admittedly almost entirely by association) Pansy Parkinson after the two had been forced to work together on a interdepartmental project, no one had thought it would last. Not the media, not their colleagues at the Ministry of Magic, and certainly not his two closest friends, Hermione and Ron Weasley. Harry had received countless letters from fans and haters alike, pleading with him to end the relationship before _'that awful woman' _abandoned him, took all his money (of which he had plenty) and ran off with the next celebrity to glance her way. One particularly ardent supporter had gone so far as to send Bubotuber pus to Pansy's office, in the hopes of deterring her from pursuing a romantic entanglement with the '_adored saviour_' any longer.

But a year passed and they were still together. Another year; and they continued to hold strong. It had now been three years and, at the ripe old age of twenty-five, the two love birds had decided it was about time they moved in together. Having decided to host a sumptuous dinner party for their nearest and dearest to celebrate their good fortune, Harry and Pansy had decorated their new Chelsea apartment in discreet, yet complimentary, cream and burgundy and cooked a lavish meal for fifteen.

Hermione, having become quite good friends with the former Slytherin over the years (after a somewhat shaky start), had been greatly looking forward to the evening. She relished the opportunity to meet up with those she loved; particularly because her lucrative career as a lawyer came with ridiculously long hours and clients who believed that their cheques entitled them to request Hermione's services at any time of the day (or night). Indeed, she had only seen Harry and Ron once in the last fortnight, and several of the others seated around the rectangular oak dining table not since George and Angelina's wedding almost six months ago.

Her evening had taken a sudden turn for the worse, however, when two gentlemen had turned up; neither of whom Hermione had had any particular desire to ever see again. To be fair, she should have expected them to be present. After all, they _were_ two of Pansy's closest friends and, as such, had every right to attend the intimate gathering. But did they _have_ to be seated directly across from Hermione? And had they truly had to spend the entirety of the evening thus far staring intently at someone they so publically claimed to hate?

"Hermione?" A husky drawl interrupted the brunette's musings, sending an unwanted shiver down her spine. Hermione looked up to find pewter eyes gazing at her, steadily. Draco Malfoy, heir to the foremost wizarding fortune in Britain, pride of Slytherin and reformed Death Eater; was watching her, his roasted pepper Bruschetta untouched.

"Yes?" Hermione was aware that her tone was curt, but it was truly the least that the snake deserved. Draco's only outward response was a sardonically arched brow and brief glance at her own starter.

"You haven't touched your food and we haven't heard a peep from you since we sat down,' the platinum-haired man observed, his grave eyes once again fixed firmly on Hermione's. "Something is clearly the matter." The former Gryffindor Princess glanced around the table, sure that the confrontational nature of the pair's conversation must have drawn the attention of the other diners, but the only one paying them any heed was Draco's Italian counterpart, the notoriously (and almost cruelly) gorgeous Blaise Zabini.

"That is utter nonsense and, even if it weren't, I don't believe that it is any of your concern, Malfoy. Nor is it any of yours, Zabini," Hermione continued, her eyes turning to the dark-haired former Slytherin. "So I would thank you both to return to your own affairs and leave me to mine." The brunette sniffed, haughtily, picked up her fork and poked at her starter, irritated. After the events of last month, the last thing she needed (or wanted, for that matter) was to speak to either Malfoy or Zabini. Hopefully, they would get the message, along with its double entendre, and leave well enough alone.

But, in accordance with the thoroughly shitty luck she'd been having all month, it was just too much to ask.

"We thought we _were _your affair," Malfoy murmured, clearly intended for Hermione and Zabini's ears only. Heart giving a sudden thump, Hermione fumbled with her fork before dropping it. Swallowing hard, she looked back up to find Malfoy and Zabini gazing back, eyes like glowing coals in the dim room. Hermione eyed both of them, feeling like a gazelle in the sights of stalking predators.

Before she could even consider replying, however, the door swung open and Pansy swept in, holding a laden tray.

"Tagliatelle with sausage, anyone?"

.. . .. .

"_You did _what_?" Hermione couldn't believe her ears. Anthony Goldstein, her boyfriend of nine months, visibly swallowed hard and took a small step back. A wise move on his part, considering what he had just told her._

_"It's just one night," Anthony tried to reason, his hands clasped together, pleadingly. "It's not that big of a deal, surely?" Hermione was still having trouble believing what he was telling her. How could he have done something like this? How could he have been so _stupid_?_

_"Just one night? _Just one night_?" She was almost shouting now, fists clenched in anger. "You had the nerve to offer me up as collateral in a poker game against _those two_, and then you have the_audacity_ to act as if _I _am the one being unreasonable? I _cannot_ believe you." Hermione's chest was tightening, something that hadn't afflicted her since the days after her torture at Bellatrix Lestrange's hands over seven years before. Taking a deep, calming breath, she raised a hand from the marble kitchen countertop to her forehead to try and regain some long-lost composure, hoping that her following words will bring the awful reality of the situation to her block-headed boyfriend._

_But before she can think of anything to say, the obviously suicidal idiot interrupts._

_"I'm sorry, Hermione. You know I am." Anthony's face is a distinctly unattractive puce. "I really thought I had them over a barrel, kings all round! Four _kings_!" He pauses, gaze now on the ceiling, clearly reminiscing about his would-be winning hand. At Hermione's warning growl, Anthony starts and rushes on. "But Zabini whipped out four aces and there was nothing I could do. We took a_wizarding vow_, Hermione. You know_ _what that means_."

_And indeed Hermione _did _know what that meant. Thanks to her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend's thoughtless actions, she had to spend the night with the two people she hated most: Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini._

.. . .. .

**First Course**

**20:58 pm.**

'_And that's really where everything went south', _Hermione thought, picking through her tagliatelle, dispassionately. She should have never gone on that dreaded trip to Las Vegas with Anthony. Intended as a brief respite from her intense work schedule (_'Baby, we never spend any time together any more'_ – Anthony had always persisted in calling her that awful name, completely ignoring the many times she had told him that she would 'much prefer another'), the holiday had fast descended into attempts at debauchery, non-stop partying and hours spent at the roulette and craps tables, regardless of the fact that, to save his life, Anthony couldn't win even a coin-toss.

Hermione had been reading an old favourite, enjoying the few solitary hours she'd had in quite some time, when Anthony had hurried into their hotel room at the Palms with news of what he had just done. On discovering that she had to sleep with her two former enemies as the result of Anthony's loss of a poker game, Hermione had stormed out in a fury after dumping said man unceremoniously. Once again, however, her good heart had gotten the best of her. Though she may have hated him almost as much as Zabini and Malfoy at that point in time, and as foolish as he might have been, Anthony did not deserve the infamously dire consequences that an unfulfilled wizarding vow would have brought upon him.

If anything, it was Hermione's fault that this had happened. Truly. If she had dumped Anthony months ago, the way she had wanted to, it would never have happened. Anthony was always getting himself into scrapes; always having mishaps of one kind or another, and, although in the past they had only ever affected him, Hermione had always gone out of her way to help him. Always gone above and beyond to ensure that his life went as smoothly as possible. And _this _was the thanks she had received.

Shaking her head to rid herself of the unwanted memory, Hermione ate a bite from her largely-untouched meal, vowing to ignore Malfoy and Zabini's presence from here on and enjoy herself. She was among friends (mostly), eating good food (well, in theory) and she was supposed to be here to celebrate Harry and Pansy taking the next step in their relationship. Not pondering a fateful holiday that saw her dump a long-term boyfriend and take a roll in the metaphorical hay with two of the worst people to ever walk the Earth.

Joining in with the laughter ringing around the table, Hermione adamantly told herself that, tonight, she was going to have fun.

Even if it killed her.

.. . .. .

**Second Course**

**22:00 pm.**

It had been an hour since Hermione had first vowed to turn her evening around for the better and, so far, it was proving successful. She had thought up a sure-fire way to avoid having to look at Malfoy or Zabini directly; choosing instead to either gaze directly above or around them, and it was working. Neither man had spoken to her since their brief discussion over an hour earlier; rather they laughed and joked with almost everyone else.

Not that Hermione had been paying any particular attention to them, of course. It was just rather noticeable, especially as the two men had almost always gone out of their own way to irritate or insult her whenever she ventured over to the Ministry on business. Malfoy and Zabini worked in a supervising capacity in the finance department; a department that Hermione's law firm often had legal issues with. Somewhat unfairly, Robert Cooper (a senior partner and someone Hermione had previously respected) believed that the fact that Hermione had attended school with the two creeps would make for a better working relationship. Something that had proved undoubtedly false.

To say that Malfoy and Zabini were difficult to work with would be an understatement. Condescending, insulting and arrogant, they were no different to their Hogwarts' days and relished antagonising Hermione, seemingly going out of their way to make her job even harder than it had to be. Cases and litigious issues dragged on for weeks longer than necessary thanks to them, ensuring that the former Gryffindor had to spend days at a time working solely at the Ministry – something that appeared to amuse the two men.

Hermione angrily chewed a bite of her stuffed zucchini, mind now firmly back in undesirable territory. It went without saying that Pansy's friendship with Malfoy and Zabini had been a factor in her and Hermione's previously tumultuous relationship. Even before _the event_, the brunette had often had to put up the two outside of work, encountering them in various social settings. It also didn't help that Harry and Ron now seemed able to tolerate them and, while the four were not exactly friends, friendly Quidditch games were played now and then.

But, no. She wasn't going to think about this anymore. She'd spent more than enough time going over (and over) the events of last month; hours spent late at night unable to sleep because…

No.

Hermione cut and quartered her zucchini, savouring each mouthful and listening to the buzz of conversation going on around her.

"'Mione!" came Ron's deep, excited voice from the other end of the table. He was seated between Luna Lovegood, his girlfriend of fourteen months, and George Weasley who was quietly cooing at his still blushing-bride, Angelina. "How was that trip to Vegas last month?"

Oh crap.

Hermione's eyes shot to Zabini and Malfoy who had frozen at Ron's words. She detected a pulse beating at the side of Zabini's head.

"Yes, Hermione, you never told us," Ginny left her conversation with Theodore Nott and joined in. "Anthony hasn't said a word abour it and I've been asking him for weeks." She paused and glanced around the table, clearly growing confused, before asking, "Where is he, anyway?"

Malfoy visibly tightened his grip on his knife. A drop of condensation ran down Hermione's glass.

"Er, he…" was all Hermione could say. So, she hadn't told her friends what had gone on with her and Anthony. Could anyone really blame her?

"We haven't seen him in a while, actually," Harry frowned, pushing his square-rimmed glasses back up his nose. "Are you two okay?"

Zabini's indigo gaze turned from the raven-haired man, alighting on Hermione with interest. Their eyes clash and Hermione feels her cheeks flush. How could she help but remember the last time he looked at her with such interest?

.. . .. .

_The suite was luxuriously decorated. Wide open rooms with polished pine floors, white cushy sofas, a stunning spiral staircase and red embellishments. Floor-to-ceiling windows provided stunning views over the Las Vegas strip, a million lights emblazoning the night sky._

_But Hermione couldn't enjoy any of it. Before her stood Malfoy and Zabini: the two boys who had made her Hogwarts' (and now working) life a misery. Expressions grave and clad in black and grey suits, respectively, the two admittedly looked… good. Or as good as vipers ever could, Hermione quickly reminded herself._

_Refusing to allow them a glimpse at the utter wreck lying under the surface, she raised her chin, stubbornly, and met their gaze._

_"Let's get this over and done with, shall we?" Feigning a confident air, she swept past them, catching the enticing and entirely male scent of sandalwood and warm amber, and up the spiral staircase. Ignoring the internal sirens whirring warning, Hermione continued steadfast down the landing, her feet sinking into the plush white carpet._

_Hearing heavy footsteps following behind her and, thankful that all the doors had been left open, she only hesitated briefly before entering the nearest bedroom and coming to an immediate standstill. Inside was a bedroom twice as large as her living room. The same plush carpet covered the floor and the bed itself took up almost all of one wall. But that wasn't what had so surprised the former Gryffindor. On almost every surface were lit candles, lighting up the dim room. The coverlet was sprinkled with dusky red rose petals and, over on the side table, was champagne and chocolate-dipped strawberries._

_Heart in her throat and a sharp pounding in her chest, Hermione turned to see Malfoy and Zabini in the doorway. The blonde's chin was raised, prideful, while the Italian's gaze was almost… hesitant, his hands carefully still at his sides. They appeared to be waiting for her to say something and it suddenly struck Hermione that, since she had first stepped foot into their penthouse, neither had uttered a single word._

_At that, nausea settled hard at the pit of Hermione's stomach. It couldn't be clearer what this was. The candles, champagne and rose petals: this _facsimile _of a romantic setting. It was all another one of their games; another 'let's see how far we can push the mudblood' venture. How could she – even for a _second - _have fallen for it? This _whole _thing was clearly a set-up, designed to humiliate and mock her and, if it weren't for Anthony's sake, she would leave immediately, Gryffindor honour be damned._

_But she didn't have a choice and that, perhaps more than anything, brought sudden, stinging tears to Hermione's eyes. Throat now uncomfortably gritty, she turned to the side-table, refusing to allow Malfoy and Zabini to see just how low they had brought her. To let them know that, after trying and failing for over ten years, they had finally succeeded._

_A black silk blindfold caught her eyes and an idea sprungs instantly to mind. Salvation. She might have to (_god_) have sex with them, but there was nothing that said she had to look at them while doing so. No, Hermione had never tried anything like it, but at this very moment, the pros far outweighed the cons._

_Stalking over to the side-table, the brunette snatched up the blindfold and turned back to the doorway to see that Malfoy and Zabini were now standing by the bed. The blonde, glimpsing what she now had in her hand, frowned._

_"That was going to be for later, if you were up to it," he murmured, grey eyes clearly confused. Zabini remained silent, watchful. Gathering the few remaining shreds of her resolve, Hermione clenched her fists, scrunching up the silk in her sweaty palms._

_"Listen to me very carefully," she started, doing her best to speak past the sodden lump in her throat. "I may have to be here, but it is only because you two tricked, yes _tricked_, "her voice rose to cut off Zabini, who had looked about to say something. "Anthony into making a wizarding vow which means that I have no other choice _but_ to sleep with you. But let us get something very straight. I do not have to like it and I most _definitely _do not have to look at you because, for all intents and purposes, this is little more than glorified rape_." _Her voice tailed off to an almost whimper at the fierceness of Malfoy's expression. His pewter eyes glowed with a ferocity she had never seen and Hermione couldn't help but take a step back, bumping into the wooden table behind her. Seeing this, Zabini grasped Malfoy's arm and the two exchanged a glance, before the blond visibly recovered himself, closing his eyes briefly and unclenching his fists. Zabini turned back to Hermione, eyeing her carefully._

_"You should be aware, Granger, that we did _not_ trick your boyfriend into anything. Far from it," Zabini's tone was sardonic, almost mocking. "In fact, Goldstein is the one that offered you up in the first place. We reminded him of the potential consequences of his actions and he didn't seem to care one whit for what would befall you should he fail. If anyone is to blame here, it is that pathetic excuse of a man you have for yourself who barters you around like chattel on an auction block." A breath caught in Hermione's already weighted throat. Anthony could have changed his mind, could have chosen another route, and instead he decided to put _her_ on the line, knowing how she felt about these two? Despite his now-ex status, the former Gryffindor couldn't help but feel hurt. Even after all she had done for Anthony, he still thought of her as_ _so easily disposable. Dumping him earlier clearly hadn't been soon enough._

_Seeing her so downcast, Malfoy cleared his throat, bringing Hermione crashing back to her stark reality. But it was too late to rally the troops, too late to gather any courage that may have stuck around. Her bones were almost heavy with disappointment, her head aching with the knowledge of what she was about to do. For, even though Anthony had mistreated her, she _still _couldn't allow him to suffer the consequences of his own actions. So, what did that say about her?_

_"Let's just get this over with," she croaked, her throat drier than ever before. She raised bruised, doe-like eyes to the two men standing before her._

_"But-"_

_"Now! Let's just get on with it!" She screeched, voice ringing of desperation and stark disappointment even in her own ears. So what must it have sounded like to Malfoy and Zabini, both of whom were now looking at her with the closest thing to pity she had ever seen from them (and another unreadable emotion that she couldn't quite decipher)?_

_Rushing past the two men with more adrenaline than sense, she frantically tied the blindfold around her eyes and pulled the red mini-dress over her head, sending her curls tumbling onto her slim shoulders. Left only in her green lingerie set, Hermione dropped hard onto the bed, body rigid and her nails pressing into her palms. There was a brief pause before she felt the bed weigh down on either side._

_The duvet rustled as the two men presumably moved closer, a theory confirmed when her nose caught the remembered sandalwood scent from earlier._

_Another movement. _Still _closer._

_Her ears strained to catch _any_ noise, any audible indication of just how close Malfoy and Zabini were; but apparently her skin was more effective, for she could feel the heat radiating from them on either side of her._

_When a warm, rough hand touched her right shoulder, Hermione leapt almost five feet into the vanilla-scented air._

_"Shhh," came a husky murmur from her left, seeking to calm her. "It's okay." Hermione only became aware that she was trembling when another hand, this time on her left, touched her other shoulder._

_"We'll look after you, tesoro. We promise," the other voice whispered with the faintest Italian accent. Despite herself, Hermione couldn't help but relax, slightly, her heart slowing just a little. Though she knew what was to inevitably come, this wasn't so bad._

_Soft lips brushed her shoulder as gentle fingers stroked away a lock of hair from her cheek and a quiet sigh left her lips. Another hand traced up her back, soothingly._

_"It's okay, sweetheart," the huskier tones belonged to Malfoy, she realised now. "Just relax…." For the first time since Hermione had entered the bedroom, she allowed herself to take a deep breath._

_"Can we just… can we get right to it?" She asked, quickly, nails once again pressed to her sweaty palms. This whole trip had been a bad idea from the start. The sooner they 'finished', the sooner she could get out of here, get on the next available flight and get the _Hell _out of Vegas. There was a brief pause during which she could almost feel Malfoy and Zabini having another of their silent conversations._

_"Just give us five minutes," came Malfoy's voice, missing any hint of a drawl for the first time. "Five minutes and, if you don't like what we're doing, we'll stop and…"_

_"And you can leave," Zabini continued where the blond left off, his tone more sure. Now that she'd identified their voices, Hermione couldn't believe that she had ever not known whose was whose. They had their similarities – cultured, sophisticated, with the confident tones of old money – but there were also distinctions. While Malfoy spoke with a husky drawl, every syllable drenched in honey; Zabini had the famous purr she had heard about so often in Rita Skeeter's articles on the two, whiskey poured over gravel. Each was different but almost … painfully seductive in their own way._

_"Okay?" Malfoy interrupted Hermione's musings, apparently concerned at her lack of response. But Hermione still hadn't decided what to do. While she didn't really have much of a choice, at least they had asked her, given her the courtesy of pretending as if she did. And it wasn't as if it had been all _that_ bad. Maybe she could get through this a lot easier than she had thought and surely it would be better to keep the two men on her side throughout the entire ordeal. Now was definitely not the time to be making enemies._

_Coming to her decision and still in abject darkness, Hermione swallowed before giving a sharp nod._

_"Okay."_

_... ..._

_Gentle but strong hands brushed every inch of her uncovered skin, leaving goose bumps in their wake. Plump, warm lips stroked briefly across her own before continuing along her jawline and to her pulse. A sharp gasp escaped Hermione's lips followed by a barely suppressed moan._

_Oh, _God_. How could this be… surely this couldn't be Malfoy and Zabini, men who lived to make her miserable, bringing her to this slow, almost unbearable burn?_

_Rough fingers danced down the nape of her neck, followed swiftly by a moist tongue trailing across her shoulder. An uncontrollable shudder swept from her fingertips to her toes and her eyes flew open behind the still-tied blindfold. Never had her skin felt so sensitive, never before had a touch almost branded her with its intensity. By depriving herself of sight, she had ensured that her other senses would seek to make up for it. A clear benefit in this case!_

_A giggle burbled up from Hermione's throat before turning fast into a groan as scorching hand stroked up her inner thighs and her knickers instantly dampened._

_God, how was she supposed to…_

_"Can we remove this?" a husky voice asked, hands trailing down to the clasp of her bra. Mind swimming, Hermione nodded, helplessly. The sure grasp easily unfastened the clasp and swept the bra off her shoulder, caressing her arms on the way, seemingly not disturbing Zabini, who was now in front of her. The Italian's hands were so, _so_ close to where she most needed them, surely he wouldn't stop now?_

_Large, rough hands continued up the soft skin of her inner thighs, sending warm shocks straight to her nerves. Hermione was almost insensible. This slow build up was tortuous, unbearable, almost cruel in its intensity. She heard Blaise kneel on the floor, heavily. Suddenly, a hand brushed right at the front of her knickers and paused right above where she needed it most. Hermione arched up, desperately trying to connect with the intense heat of his hand, needing his touch more than she had ever needed anything. But he simply moved with her, refusing to grant her wish. Hermione groaned, frustrated, and she heard Blaise chuckle, huskily._

_"What is it, sweetheart?" Draco purred, hands dancing along her sides, alighting sparks wherever he touched. "What do you want?"_

_"Please," Hermione could barely speak, her voice more a whimper. "I just… _please_."_

_"'Please', what, cara?" Blaise asked, gently, long tapered fingers now dancing along the edge of her knickers. "What do you want us to do?" Hermione swallowed, struggling to moisten her dry throat. How did they expect her to be able to say anything in the state they had put her in?_

_"The five minutes are up," Draco's breath was warm in her ear, his fingers now edging closer and closer to her tightened nipples, which ached painfully for his touch. "Do you want us to stop?"_

_Hermione was shaking her head before she even realised it._

_"No, no. Please, just, _please," _she begged, straining upwards, desperate for even the briefest touch where she burned most. But their hands were now painfully still. "I can't, please."_

_"Where do you want us to touch you, mi amor?" Blaise's whispered, a hitch in his voice. Hermione trembled at his tone, now so far gone she didn't care one whit where they touched her, so long as they did._

_"Anywhere. Please," she pleaded, desperately. Almost immediately, sweet relief. Roughened thumbs stroked over her throbbing nipples causing her to arch up at the brief touch. Her knickers were removed without further ceremony and two hands lightly pushed at her inner thighs…_

_.. .. . ._

"Hermione?," Harry's anxious tones brought Hermione out of her reverie. She returned to the present where all fourteen of the dining table's occupants were watching her with varying degrees of concern. But her eyes refused to look away from the two silent men across from her, both of whom were eyeing her with that _same_ unreadable expression from that night in Vegas.

"Hermione?" Ron took up Harry's mission, throwing an unused napkin at the former Gryffindor Princess. The brunette's gaze snapped immediately to her best friend, irritated.

"What, Ron?" Couldn't she be left alone for just five minutes?

"What's going on with you and Goldstein?" For whatever reason, Ron had never quite approved of her ex-boyfriend, always seeking to 'hook' her up with various auror colleagues of his. Yes, that is correct. He whom she had accused of possessing 'the emotional range of a teaspoon' and, more recently, of being 'less intuitive than a blast-ended skrewt', had actually seen right through Anthony months before she had. The irony of the situation was not lost on Hermione.

"He…" Hermione paused, deciding not to spout the lie she had originally intended to. "We broke up." Shoving a mouthful of zucchini into her mouth, she awaited her friends' reactions, knowing that they had all loved the former Ravenclaw.

There was a brief silence before the group broke into chatter, all bemoaning Anthony's various (and, if Ginny were to be believed, considerable) weaknesses. From his awful haircut, to his unhealthy fascination with Crumple-Horned Snorkack's (Luna's insistence), to his unacceptably small penis (though how Pansy knew anything about Anthony's, _ahem_, _personal dimensions_ was beyond Hermione), Hermione's ex was criticised with a vehemence that only the closest of friends can bring to the table (pun intended). At their obviously kind intentions and automatic defence of her, despite being unaware of the circumstances surrounding the break-up, Hermione felt her eyes prickle. She truly did have great friends.

It was only then that she became unaware of the fact that, throughout the twenty-minute conversation, Malfoy and Zabini had yet to say a word. Instead, like Hermione, they had remained silent, listening to the various criticisms being thrown in Anthony's general direction from everyone else at the table. For the umpteenth time that evening, she found herself inexplicably drawn to the two brooding Slytherins. She had expected them to be merrily telling the _Vegas story, _getting their shits and giggles at her expense.

_'But, Hermione_,' her inner voice interrupted, gently, '_when was the last time they did that?' _At its truthful words, her eyes shot up to meet the grey and indigo ones across from her.

... ..

_Rough fingers traced her outer folds with a gentleness she hadn't known they were capable of. It was her only warning before a warm tongue stroked just below them, soothing and inciting at the same time. Hermione's head fell back onto Draco's shoulder as the blonde tenderly rolled and pinched her tight, unbearably hot nipples. Gasps and whimpers left her lips intermittently and her nails dug painfully into her palms, as soft lips teased and tasted her folds, a moist tongue flickering over her clit…_

.. . ..

Hermione reached for her glass of water, the cold a welcome relief to her hot fingertips. She gulped it down, tearing her gaze away from the two Slytherins before her, whose eyes were now heated, as if able to guess just what she had been thinking about. But there was no feasible way they could possibly know; not unless Malfoy was indeed capable of what had long been rumoured. Molten-silver eyes flashed, knowingly, and Hermione almost dropped her glass.

Fuck.


	2. Part II

**Part II**

* * *

**Dessert.**

**23:12 pm.**

* * *

After the earlier revelation, Hermione had struggled to keep her mind clear. There was no way she was going to give Malfoy any more ammunition to use against her when the time inevitably came; no more than she already had, anyway. That meant no discreet glances (which she would now allow had happened more often she had previously admitted), no eye contact and, above all, anything that would remind her of _that night_ was firmly off limits.

But, for the fiftieth time that month, her opponent was calling her bluff and she was holding a shit hand.

For dessert, Pansy and Harry had continued on with their Italian theme, serving three choices – all chocolate or ice-cream based, which, for everyone else, was the cherry on top of a fantastic evening. For everyone, that was, but Hermione.

See, she had managed to avoid eating either foodstuffs for over a month (cream was another delicious, previously-adored indulgence that had since become a permanent no-go area). Indeed, it was either that or risk tumbling head first into another memory. Admittedly it was just as delicious, just as satisfactory; but the aftermath was considerably more severe. Hot sweats, shakes and cravings: Hermione now had all the symptoms of a recovering drug addict. And one bite was all it took.

"Hermione, why haven't you taken any?" Once again Harry was the guileless doomsayer in this piece, innocent confusion written all over his face. "It's your favourite." Hermione's grip on her unsoiled spoon tightened as Pansy and several others looked over. With gritted teeth, she smiled briefly before heaping some Neapolitan ice cream into her bowl, but Harry was not to be deterred. Green eyes gazing meaningfully at her plate, he waited until she loaded her spoon with a hefty bite and plopped it into her mouth, the assorted flavours hitting her palate instantly. Nodding approvingly like a doting father, Harry turned away satisfied and, theoretically, that should have been the end of it. But, as the evening's events had shown, Hermione was a glutton for punishment. Once again and going against sheer common sense, she glanced up at Malfoy and Zabini. The two were gazing back at her, heatedly, indigo and silver holding her willing captive.

.. . ..

_Trails of vanilla ice cream melted by the heat of Blaise's body ran down his golden sculpted torso. Hermione, mouth watering at the sight, caught it with her tongue, tracing it up to his tightened, dusky nipples. A husky groan sounded from above her and Draco chuckled from her left._

_.. . .._

Unthinkingly, Hermione swept her tongue slowly across the swell of the spoon, catching the last few morsels of ice cream. Zabini swallowed and Malfoy's eyes became quick-silver.

.. . ..

_Sighs and groans echoed around the warm, musk-scented room. Sticky, heated skin clung together as the three moved in unison, the silk sheets cool beneath their aching limbs. The blindfold now lay in the corner of the room, but Hermione's eyes were still closed, her heart thudding a metronome loud enough to wake the dead. Draco and Blaise moved swiftly, passionately, in and out of her, hands sweeping over her inner thighs and brushing over her nipples intermittently._

_.. . .._

Still lost in the memory, Hermione's tongue traced across her full lips, teeth catching her bottom lip. Zabini's eyes remained locked on her mouth, sending a warm heat rising from her core, rippling from her toes all the way to her fingertips. The silver gaze of his blond counterpart held Hermione his continued captive, growing more and more heated as he presumably read her traitorous thoughts.

_.. . .._

_When a fingernail scraped across her swollen, pulsing clit, a keen ripped from Hermione's throat._

_God__. She couldn't take much more._

_Pants, whimpers, more whispered groans._

_ "__Oh, Merlin, _please…."

_.. . .._

Unable to withstand it any longer, Hermione dropped her spoon, leapt from her seat and rushed out of the room, paying no heed to her friends' questioning calls. She continued down the wood-panelled hallway and into the chrome-and-silver kitchen, where she collapsed, breathing heavily, against a countertop.

Why had she eaten that damn ice cream? Why? She could very easily have made her excuses, no matter how incredible, and left. It would have been a far better option than to bow to every weakness, demonstrate how badly she had needed them, how badly she still needed them.

For as much as she may have denied it to herself over the last month, she very much did. Daylight, with its various responsibilities and her harried work life (which had become admittedly easier since she had insisted on being transferred to Contracts as soon as she got back to London, keeping her from any contact with Malfoy and Zabini) was one thing, but when night came…. when sleep finally overtook her wracked, overtired body… _that's_ when the dreams would make their unwelcome appearance. And morning would come, leaving her unbearably unsatisfied, yet craving her next hit.

_... .._

_The headboard was bangin__g loudly against the wall but was drowned out by stuttered moans, almost-shouted groans and desperate keens. She couldn't catch her breath, not when their hands were causing such devastation on her senses. Not when her nipples and sensitive nub were being tweaked, teased, stroked, caressed and pulled almost painfully away from her body._

_As her head fell back onto Blaise's shoulder, she managed to lift a limp hand to grasp Draco's sweaty shoulder. The two men groaned immediately, holding her even tighter and surging even deeper…_

_.. . .._

Merlin, how long could she go on like this? For how much longer would she be able to survive on as little as two hours of sleep a night, when there seemed to be no relief in sight?

"Hermione?" An instantly recognisable (and concerned) voice interrupted her thoughts and, too tired to resist any longer, she looked up to see its silver-eyed owner and Zabini standing before her, looking large and out-of-place in the enclosed area.

"Not now, Malfoy," Hermione pleaded, tiredly, raising a hand to rub soothingly at her throbbing temple. "Please not now."

"Hermione," Malfoy's tone was firmer. "Enough of this. You're exhausted and it's time you went home." The brunette stiffened at his words. Of all people, how dare he? After what he and Zabini had planned, after the way they had humiliated her.

Because it hadn't been enough for them to bring about the ruin of her relationship (although, in hindsight, it was a long time coming), mock and humiliate her. Oh, no; they had to make her enjoyit as well.

"With all due respect, Malfoy, why don't you fuck right off?" Hermione's tone was acrid, her eyes spitting sparks. Zabini raised an eyebrow at the former Gryffindor's uncharacteristic use of the expletive as a tick pulsed beside Malfoy's eye. "Do you honestly think that after everything you two have done to me, that I would want anything to do with either of you? Get the Hell away from me."

With that, Hermione tried to brush past the two former Slytherins, only to find her way unceremoniously blocked. The two tall men had closed ranks, rendering her a prisoner.

"Didn't you have enough last time?" Hermione goaded them, irritation fuelling the knowledge that, in the mood they were clearly in, Zabini and Malfoy could prove just as stubborn as she was. "Or is forcing yourselves on women how you two get off?"

Hermione regretted her bitter words almost as soon as they left her lips. Zabini's indigo eyes glittered with obvious hurt, while Malfoy only eyed her in clear disappointment and Hermione's heart inexplicably sunk. Truth be told, it was neither fair nor entirely accurate. She had been more than a willing participant by the end – a fact that she had also tried to push to the back of her mind.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" She offered, hesitantly, eyes now on the ground. "I just… I don't need this right now. I've had more than enough to deal with this past month, what with Vegas and what happened – between us and then, of course, the fact that you have yet to apologise –"

"Hermione, enough of this," Zabini started, crossing his arms, muscles rippling even through the material of his suit. "If you had answered just one of our owls or floo-messages you would know by now just how regretful we are about the entire situation." His words took the wind completely out of Hermione's sails. The former Gryffindor had thought that having Zabini and Malfoy apologise for the one-night affair would bring her closure. That she'd finally be able to move past the entire sordid event and resume her life, even pursue another relationship if she so wished.

So, no one would have been more surprised than Hermione at the slow, viscous stream of disappointment flooding her veins as well as the startling epiphany that she had never wanted an apology. Indeed, far from it. What she really wanted, what she needed, was a repeat performance.

One, two, maybe more. And Blaise had just made that clear that that was definitely off the table.

Hermione swallowed hard around the growing lump in her throat. Why was it that she was usually an emotional fortress (to the extent that several of her exes had always complained about her being 'emotionally unavailable'), but around these two she couldn't seem to control herself?

A large hand gently raised her chin and she was helpless but to meet a pewter gaze.

"What is it, Hermione?" Draco's voice was as gruff as his grip was gentle. "We understand that what we did was wrong and we're more than ready to do whatever you want to make up for it. As long as it had nothing to do with that awful charity of yours, S.P.I.T. or whatever it's called."

Hermione sniffed but couldn't contain a quiet giggle.

"It's called S.P.E.W," she said, huffily. "And it hasn't been in operation since Hogwarts." But she also couldn't prevent a small smile from coming to her lips. Zabini grinned, seemingly relieved at this, and Hermione was struck by how it rendered him even more beautiful.

"There you go," Malfoy was also smiling, seemingly indulgently, and Hermione noticed that it was equally as stunning. It also hit her that the only time she had ever seen them wear similar expressions of apparently sheer joy was on that night. "What do you want us to do? Say it and it's done."

Hermione's gaze switched between the two men, unsure of what to say. She couldn't possibly suggest it, with their shared history (the events of a month ago aside) they'd most likely laugh at her and she didn't want to let go of this Malfoy and Zabini ('Draco and Blaise', her inner voice urged gently) for anything.

Seemingly sensing her insecurity, Za- Blaise cleared his throat, drawing her attention from the white ceiling back to them.

"We'll do anything, Hermione," His voice was a quiet purr, eyes glowing. "You just have to ask." Anything, huh? Hermione gathered up all her infamously Gryffindor courage and resolved to hold them to it, by asking the question that had been frequenting her brain for over a month.

"Why did you agree to it?" She asked, breathless with anxiety. Draco and Blaise glanced at each other, clearly confused, before turning back to her. Not wanting to ask again, but clearly having to, Hermione raised her chin and met their gazes once again.

"Sleeping with me," She explained, only her fidgeting hands giving away any hint of nerves. "Why did you agree to it? You could have turned it down and requested something else." Her gaze switched from theirs to her hands, so she missed the questioning look Blaise gave Draco and the brief nod he received in answer.

"Why wouldn't we have agreed to it?" Blaise's uncharacteristically unsure tone brought Hermione's eyes back up to his, surprised. "Surely you know how we feel about you, Hermione" His voice grew deeper towards the end, eyes searing into her soul. Her heart continued to pound and her mouth grew dry as Hermione glanced at Draco for some much-needed clarification. There's no way they could be trying to say what she was hoping…? But he only returned her gaze, steadfastly, his eyes returning to their earlier quick-silver.

"What do you… what do you mean?" Hermione stuttered, confused. Draco's full lips stretched into a self-mocking smile.

"Come now, Hermione," he drawled. "There's no need to play coy. We couldn't have made it more obvious." Now Hermione was more confused than ever.

"Made it more obvious?" Hermione was incredulous. "You two have hated me since time immemorial, everyone knows that."

Draco and Blaise chuckled quietly, with the former shaking his head in apparent disbelief.

"During our Hogwarts' years, yes," the Malfoy heir continued, "Maybe even when we first started working together. But definitely not as of two years ago."

Hermione was stunned. Her mouth fell open slightly, thoughts racing through her mind at two-hundred miles per hour. There was no way they could be telling her that –

"We thought you knew," Blaise took up, chuckling quietly, eyes searching Hermione's in disbelief. "We were so obvious." He and Draco exchanged abashed glances once again as Hermione struggled to take in what they were telling her.

"Obvious?" She repeated, still stunned. "Far from it. All the mocking –"

"Playful teasing," Draco interjected.

"Tugging my hair –"

"Your hair is gorgeous; of course we couldn't keep our hands off of it."

"Making fun of my appearance –"

"We called you beautiful, hardly 'making fun of you."

"Constantly criticising my boyfriends, particularly Anthony-"

"Well, they didn't deserve you. And we all know how that prick Anthony turned out."

Hermione huffed, indignantly, as Draco eyed her, eyes twinkling with amusement. Blaise was still laughing to himself, quietly.

"But then…" Hermione trailed off. If this meant what she thought it meant. But there was no way. Surely, there was no way. Blaise, apparently taking pity on her, stroked her arms, comfortingly, warming wherever he touched.

"Yes, Hermione," the Italian confirmed, gently. "We couldn't believe our luck when that idiot offered a night with you as collateral. After having waited so long; having to stand by and watch as you paraded boyfriend after boyfriend in front of us, each one more unworthy than the last, we were finally going to get our chance. Truth be told, we would have cheated if necessary to make sure we won the lot."

Draco chuckled, agreeing, and Hermione's eyes flickered between the two of them, unable to believe her ears.

"So, you didn't cheat?" Hermione asked, quietly, eyes huge in her face. Draco's smile grew soft and he curled a chocolate-coloured lock behind her ear.

"No, sweetheart, we didn't cheat," He answered, quietly. "We didn't exactly have to. Goldstein couldn't bluff if his life depended on it and his tells would be obvious to even the most unskilled amateur. He had a good hand, but we had the best."

"So, then… all the candles and the chocolate and the champagne..." Hermione trailed off, disbelievingly, the ceiling spotlights seeming brighter than ever before.

"We wanted to make it as special as possible, even under the circumstances," Blaise explained, a wry smile on his lips, indigo eyes now almost visibly looking into the past. "We thought that if we could convince you to stay; if we just showed you what it could be like, that you might give us a chance to 'woo you' properly after we got back to London.

"But you never gave us the chance, tesoro," he continued, gaze alighting on the petite brunette once again. "You didn't answer so much as one owl, one floo-message. You ignored all our efforts to contact you and you even quit working in Litigation. Why? Was it that awful, that…. disgusting that you couldn't bear to even be in the same room as us?" Blaise's eyes shimmered with confused hurt and Hermione couldn't hold back any longer.

"No, not at all," She rushed to explain, switching her gaze to Draco to assure him of the truth. "It was the most amazing, the most beautiful- " When they continued to eye her, oddly unsure, she rushed on. "I only left because I didn't think you'd want to see me again and I couldn't bear for you to tell me that it was a mistake; that you would never touch a – a _mudblood_ under normal circumstances –"

Blaise growled angrily at her words and Draco's eyes turned fierce. "Don't you ever call yourself that again," he growled, silver eyes flashing warningly.

"Well, it's what you used to call me, right?" Hermione persisted, despite their anger. "Draco, you made sure I had a wonderful introduction to that word."

"And I haven't said it once since the war, if you remember," Draco explained through gritted teeth, eyes clashing with Hermione's. "Not a day goes by that I don't regret it." At his clearly genuine confession, Hermione's momentary anger subsided, and she nodded briefly, accepting his apology. Satan was surely ice skating a few miles under their feet, because Draco Malfoy actually committing an act of contrition had previously been considered as only likely to happen in conjunction with a sudden wave of frost way down south.

At Hermione's acceptance, Blaise and Draco smiled, briefly, relieved, and the latter continued, "Of course we wanted you, how could we not?" the platinum-haired man's tone was almost reverent and Hermione couldn't help but be captivated by his words. "That's the main reason we turned up tonight. We knew that this would be our only chance to try to convince you to see us again before you got snatched up by another, lovelorn idiot or even just to return to working with us, where we could at least see you, even if we couldn't do anything else."

"Both of you?" Hermione had to be sure of this. There was no point in being half in love with both (because, she now admitted, that was clearly were she was, regardless of social mores or the various expectations placed upon her thanks to her position as one of the glorified 'Golden Trio') if they didn't both want to at least pursue a relationship. But Blaise didn't even have to glance at Draco before he answered,

"Yes, most definitely both of us," He was endearingly earnest in his intensity and relief rushed over Hermione. An irrepressible smile crossed her lips and she felt a familiar twist in the pit of her stomach. Draco slid his hand, that up until now had returned to toying harmlessly with her hair, down to the nape of her neck, tracing his fingers along her spinal column. A warm languid heat spread from his rough fingertips down, her nipples instantly tightening and an unbearable heat settling where she ached most. Blaise watched intently as Hermione's tongue moistened her suddenly dry lips, his gaze only serving to up the temperature in the room.

Slightly breathless, Hermione eyed her two former Slytherins, whose attention she held equally rapt. "What now?" she asked, arching slightly into Draco's still-stroking hand, unable to keep her gaze from Blaise's full lips.

"What do you want?" Blaise asked, reminding her of the last time he had asked her that question. Her eyes flickered to see that his were alight with knowing and a grin crossed her face. Glancing at Draco, she saw a similarly aware, dangerous smirk on his face.

.. . ..

_ "__Just a bit more, please," she begged, between pants, nibbling on Draco's ear. He groaned in response and grasping her hips, tilted them slightly, hitting a spot that sent her spiralling. In response, Blaise whimpered and surged into her even faster, even deeper._

_.. . .._

"Anything?" She almost whimpered. How could she be this close and they had barely touched her? How would Hermione survive what she was about to suggest? Blaise leaned in, the scent of sandalwood enveloping her senses.

.. . ..

_Stroking hands, soft lips, a searing tongue sweeping across the tight points of her aching breasts._

_ "__Oh, Merlin…"Blaise moaned, his fingertips dancing over her swollen nub, inflaming her even more. Draco's hands rasped over her breasts, brushing her nipples with every deep stroke he made._  
_.. . .._

"Anything, cara," He murmured, voice rumbling in her ear, warmth sweeping across where Draco's fingers still tease. The raven-haired man brushed his lips so gently across her pulse point and a moan left Hermione's lips.

_.. . .._

_Sweaty bodies moving faster and faster, a ringing in her ears._

_Breathless, desperate._

_.. . .._

"Can we –"she leaned over to whisper her suggestion into Draco's ear, which was now directly beside her mouth, his own lips occupied with nibbling their way along her clavicle. The scent of evergreen and unadulterated pure Draco almost overwhelmed her. A husky chuckle echoed around the cavernous kitchen, sending another pulse right to her aching clit.

..

___God_.

_.._

"For starters," Draco answered in a seductive drawl, nibbling on an earlobe that she had never before realised was quite so sensitive. As her legs gave out from underneath her, she felt four strong arms grasp her even tighter. "Hold on."

Hermione's eyelids fell shut; Blaise gave a rumbling chuckle; Draco traced his tongue down under her spaghetti-strap and….

_*pop*_

.. . ..

.. . ..

_FIN._

* * *

_So, thoughts? Review if possible and let me know._

I am tentatively considering doing a sequel...

_**The Bird of Fire.**_


	3. NEW STORY AND SEQUEL UPDATE

**NOTICE: NEW STORY & SEQUEL UPDATE!**

* * *

**NEW STORY & UPDATE ON SEQUEL**

* * *

The requests for a sequel have been numerous on here and on various other sites and I would like to take this opportunity to thank you all for your kind words and general feedback.

It means so much to have my first fan fiction in over five years (and only my second ever) receive such praise and to be greeted so warmly. I truly appreciate it and it has inspired me to keep writing.

Some of you probably came here expecting the actual sequel and I apologise for that, but I thought this was the fastest way to inform a large group of people at once. :)

SO...

**SEQUEL INFO: **

I have a solid idea for the sequel and I aim to have it up by the end of the week. It's set a few months on from the end of _AGABAADP_, and concentrates on an aspect of the 'tripling's (**Roxi **used this term in her review and I thought it was wonderfully appropriate!) developing relationship.

I hope that you all enjoy it and the next time this story is 'updated', it will be with news that the sequel has arrived.

**NEW STORY: **

I have just completed the story I told some of you about. Entitled 'If You Can't Shag Your Friends...', it is a HG/FW/GW, but doesn't involve twincest, and is quite a bit longer and more complex than this one. I enjoyed writing it (though Fred and George proved more stubborn than Draco and Blaise, let me tell you!) and would greatly love and appreciate feedback on it.

If you're interested, head on over to my profile and check it out...

* * *

In the meantime, I love and adore you all. Feel free to friend me over on my LJ - tha-phoenix . livejournal . com (no spaces, of course. :))

Thanks...

_The Bird of Fire._


	4. SEQUEL IS UP!

**NOTICE: SEQUEL IS UP!**

* * *

**SEQUEL IS UP!**

* * *

A week after _'If You Can't Shag You Friends...'_ was posted, I have posted the first part of the sequel to '_A Game, A Bet..._'.

If you're interested, head on over to my profile to check it out and get back to me with your feedback...

'_Consequences of an Engagement Party...'_

_It has been six months since the now infamous dinner party and Hermione, Draco and Blaise are now in a relationship. However, with their friends' engagement party, comes a startling realisation, painful admissions and unforeseen consequences. Once again, what happens in Vegas, doesn't always stay in Vegas..._

**UPCOMING STORY INFO:**

For those that have stuck around (LOL), I am working on another multi-chapter fic with a Hermione-centric threesome at its core. It's a threesome that I haven't seen in the nine years I've been reading fan fiction, so I thought it'd be interesting.

The 'tripling' = Hermione/Draco/Adrian

I know what it's going to be about and I plan to have the first chapter up by next Tuesday. Again, news will be posted here.

I also intend to write a HG/FW/GW multi-chapter story. Again, I know what it's going to be about and I'm only wondering if I should post both simultaneously or one after the other...

**PROFILE.**

Please note that I update my profile at least once a week with news on my work. So, if you're ever wondering when a new story/chapter shall be posted, know that news is always posted on there and also on my livejournal account - tha - phoenix . livejournal . com (I gave the wrong one last time. LMAO. No spaces, again.

* * *

In the meantime, I love and adore you all. :))

Thanks...

_The Bird of Fire._


	5. NEW STORY UP!

**NOTICE: NEW STORY UP!**

* * *

**STORY UP!**

* * *

I have posted the first and second chapters of my first multi-chapter fic in over five years, _The Gauntlet. _It's a Hermione/Draco/Viktor and is going to have more angst and depth than my previous works. Below is the description:

SUMMARY: _When Hermione is in accident & suffers from memory loss, she forgets all about her relationship with the infamous Draco & Viktor. It also doesn't help that she broke it off with the latter & can barely stand the former. So, when it is made clear that her best chance at recovery is to move in with the two men, the situation goes from bad to worse to Hell in a hand-basket_

MORE INFO:_ Features a reluctant Hermione, irritated Draco and confused Viktor Krum, as well as a bumbling but well-meaning cast of supporting characters and several memorable events.._.

If you're interested, check it out. I won't be posting any more updates on this story. I think I've pushed my luck enough. LOL

**PROFILE.**

Please note that I update my profile at least once a week with news on my work. So, if you're ever wondering when a new story/chapter shall be posted, know that news is always posted on there and also on my livejournal account - tha - phoenix . livejournal . com (I gave the wrong one last time. LMAO. No spaces, again.

* * *

In the meantime, I love and adore you all. :))

Thanks...

_The Bird of Fire._


End file.
